


as we dream, gentle hands are shaping

by bysine



Series: the wonpil variations [1]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: AU of an AU, Domestic, Jeju Rustication, M/M, Modern Royalty, abdication, loosely inspired by The King: Eternal Monarch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25660408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bysine/pseuds/bysine
Summary: “You don’t have to be so bloodytraditionalabout it, you know,” said Buyeong. “Exile to Jeju. As if you’re someone living in the Joseon Dynasty.”Wonpil paused in the middle of unpacking a box of music scores. “I just like Jeju, and Younghyun-hyung likes oranges.”---Remix ofchunmyeongokin which Wonpil is king, and abdicates.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Kim Wonpil
Series: the wonpil variations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860622
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	as we dream, gentle hands are shaping

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [chunmyeongok (a dream-song of spring)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597997) by [bysine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bysine/pseuds/bysine). 
  * Inspired by [myeongok (a dream-song) 1: London, 2013/14](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921901) by [forochel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel). 



> forochel, at 10pm: imagine if WONPIL were the king / oh that is too sad  
> me, 2 hours later: omg I have written … a drabble

1.

In their first week in Jeju, Wonpil’s Great-Uncle called. 

“You don’t have to be so bloody _traditional_ about it, you know,” said Buyeong. “ _Exile to Jeju_. As if you’re someone living in the Joseon Dynasty.” 

Wonpil paused in the middle of unpacking a box of music scores. “I just like Jeju, and Younghyun-hyung likes oranges.” 

Outside the window, in the large and overgrown garden, Younghyun was attempting to fix the gate, trailed by the large white dog that had discovered them the day they’d moved into the house.

On the other end of the line, Buyeong gave an unprincely snort.

2.

Royal Guards’ shirts were tailored to accommodate bulletproof vests, and so most of Younghyun’s old ones were too large for Younghyun. Not that he wore any of them, existing permanently now in old t-shirts and pullovers. 

Wonpil took to wearing them, rolled-up sleeves hanging loosely on his forearms, shirt-fronts billowing over his shorts.

“King abdicates to make man he loves do battle with weeds,” muttered Younghyun, when Wonpil found him in the garden. 

Wonpil held out a glass of water. “King abdicates to make sure man he loves stays hydrated,” he replied, as Younghyun downed it in one long gulp. 

3.

Wonpil was meant to be composing. He did none of that in the first month, or the second. Their time was mostly occupied fixing up the house.

More accurately, Younghyun did the fixing. Wonpil spent his time assuring concerned parties he was well. 

“Come see for yourself, once Her Majesty is settled in,” he told Lady Noh. “Jeju is beautiful, but your face more so.” 

Her laugh was a warm thing that always reminded Wonpil of being very young and very loved.

Younghyun intercepted the phone. “Lady Noh, you have my renewed respect,” he said. “This man is a handful.” 

4.

“Do you remember that weekend in Lisbon?” asked Wonpil. 

_Pretend I am not King and you are not my guard_ , he’d said. Younghyun had obeyed.

Younghyun hummed; tipped chopped green onions into the stew. “Yes.” 

They had spent their time away from London quietly, taking the tram to Belém for egg tarts, scaling winding streets to several of the _miradouro_ s overlooking the city. 

“I didn’t know it was possible for my heart to ache so, when you took my hand,” said Wonpil. “The things I wanted to _say_ to you.”

Younghyun’s hands stilled at the memory. “Well, that’s the past.” 

5.

They had dinner at the home of the vegetable stall _halmeoni_ , whom Younghyun had befriended. Or rather she’d befriended him, and hadn’t even blinked when Younghyun had mentioned that he’d be bringing those sweet potatoes back to his young man. 

“I didn’t know we were having the king to dinner,” she exclaimed, when she’d set eyes on Wonpil.

“Former king,” Wonpil said gently, clasping her hands. “But please just call me Wonpil.”

“Your face is still on the money,” said the _halmeoni_ , looking flustered.

Younghyun curled an arm around Wonpil’s waist, and smiled. “Far more handsome in person, isn’t he?” 

6.

After the house, there was the garden, which Younghyun tried to wrestle into better shape. 

"Tomatoes would be nice," Wonpil said absently one afternoon, when he'd left the piano room to take his tea outdoors.

" _Jeonha_ ," said Younghyun, which meant Wonpil was vexing him. 

Wonpil had laughed around a tangerine segment. "I joke. Plant whatever thing makes you happy. You could tend a crop of weeds and I would still find it lovely."

But the next day Wonpil went to the window and saw Younghyun tilling a corner of the garden under the supervision of the _harabeoji_ down the road.

7.

"You don't have to give me _everything_ I want," Wonpil said, when Younghyun stumbled into bed after a day's hard labour.

"No," groaned Younghyun. "I don't."

Before, his hands had been rough from handling guns; now they bore callouses from gardening. 

"I'm giving you exactly what I want to give," said Younghyun.

Wonpil traced his fingers along Younghyun's nape, where shirt and hat had failed to shield his skin from the sun.

"And what's that," Wonpil asked, even though he knew the answer.

Younghyun had given Wonpil his oath; Wonpil had given up his throne. Everything else was spare change.

8.

They had denied themselves so much; now they denied themselves nothing. 

If Younghyun allowed it, Wonpil would spend hours tangled up with him, breathing in the clean smell of his skin, hands moving idly along the planes of his body, feeling the rise and fall of Younghyun's chest; the tremble of muscle under his fingers. 

"We'll lose the afternoon, like this," Younghyun had said once.

"We'll lose nothing," Wonpil had replied, and Younghyun had put down his book to turn towards Wonpil, to let Wonpil press kisses down the column of his neck and into the hollow of his throat.

9.

Sungjin was their first visitor, and arrived bearing jars of Palace kimchi and Lady Noh's doenjang.

"Deplorable," he said, giving Wonpil a once over. "Years of fine tailoring all undone. Is that a _leaf_ in your hair?"

Younghyun had come in, then, to greet Sungjin in a loose and grubby t-shirt, with dirt on his fingers and a towel hanging around his neck.

"You should see Younghyun-hyung's tomato plants," said Wonpil. "The _harabeoji_ says he's doing very well for a novice."

"Well," said Sungjin at length, "I guess I'll report to Lady Noh that you two seem happy, at least."

10.

Jae came next at peak tangerine season, with a scarf wrapped firmly around his neck even though Jeju was nowhere as cold as Seoul.

He laughed when he discovered Younghyun in the kitchen making tangerine jam, but lingered anyway, and let Wonpil stir a heaping tablespoon of it into a cup of warm water to soothe his throat.

"Our Wonpilie is sulking because he's still aching from tangerine picking," said Younghyun. 

" _Our Wonpilie_ ," Jae repeated, quietly amused.

"I'm a frail _artist_ ," Wonpil replied, hobbling over to the piano to play Jae the Jeju folk songs concerto he was working on.

11.

When the house was in order and the garden mostly tamed, Younghyun came to Wonpil.

"I should find something to do," he said.

"There's that slow food blog you've been writing," said Wonpil. It had a steady readership; Wonpil had helped pick the pen name. "And hasn't that organic food company approached you for jingle lyrics?"

"Yes," said Younghyun, "and I agreed. But I also saw that the _taekwondo_ school in town needs instructors."

Wonpil smiled. "The students won't be like Corporal Nam and Sergeant Han."

"That's for the best," said Younghyun. "Sergeant Han could flatten me in a heartbeat."

12.

Younghyun now was _sabomnim_ to the _taekwondo_ kids in town, and also to their parents, who didn't quite know what to do whenever Wonpil showed up to wait for Younghyun's class to finish. 

He knew he must probably seem strange, with his hair curling madly and in his billowing shirts. 

"Perhaps I look _too_ _much_ like a dissolute artist," said Wonpil, frowning down at his bare knees and ankles. 

"They're just not sure how to address you," Younghyun replied, shedding the jacket of his _dobok_.

"Please just call me Wonpil," Wonpil told them the next time, to nods of relief.

13.

Younghyun's parents visited at _seollal_ , and Younghyun and Wonpil performed their deep bows in the sitting room, the white dog barking excitedly from the entryway. 

"Didn't expect you to cause an abdication," said Younghyun's father to Younghyun. 

"It was all me, _abeonim_ ," said Wonpil. "I'm afraid hyung didn't stand a chance."

They hiked Hallasan on the second day, Wonpil trailing exhaustedly behind the Kangs, shins still aching from the walking route they'd done the evening before.

"Pilie-ah, careful," Younghyun's mother laughed as she helped him along. It was only after they'd left that Wonpil realised they hadn't called him _jeonha_.

14.

Spring brought with it Dowoon, accompanied by Sergeant Han. 

"There were more guards but I told them to take the day off," he said, beleaguered. “Apparently it's because I'm Crown Prince now. _Hyung_." 

"It can't be helped if your sister is the Queen," said Wonpil reasonably, well aware that he'd been the architect of Dowoon's current circumstances.

“I came to check if the Captain is getting soft,” Sergeant Han said. 

“Probably,” Wonpil replied. “Said just the other day that you’d flatten him in a heartbeat.”

“Always could, _jeonha_ ,” Sergeant Han replied with a smile, and slipped out into the garden. 

15.

Wonpil and Dowoon rented scooters and rode to Seogwipo, with Corporal Nam not far behind. Younghyun had taken Sergeant Han to the _taekwondo_ school to impress the students. 

“We never made that trip to Belfast,” said Dowoon, as they took in the volcanic columns at Jusangjeolli. 

Wonpil nodded. “There was never time.” Such had been the way of things, back then.

“I could write to noona if you’d rather she appoint someone else, you know,” said Wonpil later, feeling somewhat apologetic.

Dowoon laughed, and shook his head. “That’s okay, hyung. I think I’ll just pray for her continued good health.” 

16.

Younghyun, goaded by Sergeant Han, started going on runs along the _batdam_.

"It used to drive me mad in London, seeing you come in all windswept and panting," Wonpil said, when Younghyun returned. 

Younghyun laughed; swiped sweat from under his jaw. "Is that why you always had a towel ready?"

“Wonpil-hyung used to be so weird about your modesty, Younghyun-hyung,” said Dowoon from the rug where he’d been studying Wonpil’s draft third movement. The white dog lay peaceably on top of his stomach. “Shirts on inside the house, et cetera.” 

“I wouldn’t have gotten any studying done otherwise,” Wonpil retorted. 

17.

“It felt a little like the old days, didn’t it?” said Wonpil, after Dowoon had left. “Three of us, the Belgravia townhouse.”

“In some ways,” Younghyun replied, dropping the car keys into the dish Wonpil had made at his one and only ceramic class.

“Only in some ways?” 

Younghyun shrugged. “London was when I discovered what it was to feel blissfully happy and utterly wretched at the same time.” 

“Oh, hyung.” Wonpil crossed the room to put his arms around Younghyun, the way he’d wanted to for years. 

“I’m fine _now_ ,” Younghyun pointed out, curling his arms around Wonpil anyway.

18.

With the house to themselves again, Wonpil found Younghyun freshly showered and sitting on the veranda in his underwear.

Now Wonpil just let himself look: taking in Younghyun’s damp hair curled at the nape of his neck, the drops of water clinging to his back. How the lines of his body had softened, no longer subject to the demands of the royal schedule. 

Satisfied, he padded over to sit behind Younghyun, to press his chest against Younghyun’s back, chin over Younghyun’s shoulder. 

“Shirts on inside the house,” he murmured, and felt Younghyun laugh. 

“You’d never enforce that.” 

“No,” Wonpil agreed. 

19\. 

Wonpil completed his concerto at the height of summer, squirrelled away indoors while Younghyun turned browner by the day. 

“What will you do next?” asked Younghyun. 

“Hadn’t thought about it.” Wonpil patted the white dog, still half-immersed in the dream of the song. “Sorry for neglecting you.” 

Younghyun drained the water from the bowl of grapes he was washing. “You needn’t apologise.”

“I was talking to the dog,” said Wonpil, “not this man who goes boat fishing every chance he gets.” 

“You wanted peace and quiet.”

“Oh, I want a great many things,” Wonpil sighed. “Some grapes, for a start.”

20.

He sent in the composition, anonymously, to one of the competitions that his yearmates at the RCM had mentioned, then forgot about it in favour of Younghyun taking him to the beach. 

“This wasn’t necessary, before,” said Wonpil, standing impatiently still while Younghyun slathered sunblock onto the back of his neck. 

“ _Before_ , you’d never have visited the beach like this.” Younghyun stepped around; stroked sunblock onto Wonpil’s nose. Brushed his cheek. “Shorts and a t-shirt? No umbrella? Unthinkable.” 

Wonpil laughed. “Captain Kang, touching my royal body? Outrageous.” 

“There are exigencies, _jeonha_ ,” Younghyun said, and kissed him tenderly on the lips. 

21.

In the late summer there was a training camp for the _taekwondo_ school, which ended with a barbeque party at the nearest beach. 

"Were you really the king?" asked one of the younger children, who had gravitated towards Wonpil while he’d been inflating balloons. 

"Yes, but not any more," said Wonpil.

Curious eyes peered at him. "Why? Did you not want to be king?” 

He thought about Younghyun in third year, made honest from soju, weeping silent tears at the foot of Wonpil's bed. How he’d apologised, white-faced, the next morning.

"Well,” said Wonpil, “there was something I wanted more.”

22.

“I’m just thinking about all that business with the flute,” said Wonpil on the walk back.

“Your strange holiday,” Younghyun laughed. “Palace staff are still puzzling over the time you forgot who the Prime Minister was.”

“It was very freeing, stepping into that other Wonpil's shoes,” said Wonpil. “But I missed you far too much to think of staying.”

“You had me, over there.”

“A very different you,” Wonpil pointed out. “I had a talk with him, you know. About holding on to the person he loved.” He glanced over at Younghyun. “Then I realised I was being a hypocrite.”

23.

Sometimes Wonpil still dreamed about that night; how he’d awoken to the commotion outside, and seen his own Younghyun coming in through the doorway, reaching with trembling hands for Wonpil. And every time, inside Younghyun's desperate, careful embrace, Wonpil would arrive at the same decision. 

As a boy he'd admired, but never understood, the clear and honest conviction with which Younghyun had made his oath. It was years later when he would discover this clarity for himself: standing in Younghyun's moonlit quarters after they’d returned to their world from that strange parallel dimension, saying, "Two years, and then I'll abdicate."

24\. 

In London Younghyun had slept still and fitful, and never got enough of it. Now he slept extravagantly: blankets thrown off, limbs sprawled, barely stirring. 

The first time Younghyun had slept in, Wonpil had gone for a walk and returned to find him ready to launch a search-and-rescue. Now Wonpil left notes; sometimes missives to meet Wonpil for abalone porridge. 

“Your young man is late,” the restaurant _halmeoni_ would say, while the white dog rolled outside with her yellow one. 

“He’ll come,” Wonpil would reply, and pick at the side dishes until Younghyun arrived on his bicycle, puffy-faced and bed-haired. 

25.

Jinyoung visited during apple season, surprise Jaebeom in tow. 

“You said he’d mellowed,” Younghyun said to Wonpil, after they’d gone to sleep off the flight from London. 

“Maybe he _did_ mention something about Jaebeom coming too,” Wonpil mumbled.

But Younghyun took them on his food tour nonetheless: hairtail stew and grilled sea bream; gulfweed soup and seafood ramyeon; pheasant dumplings and, on their last night, black pork barbeque.

Perhaps Jaebeom had found a second soulmate in Younghyun, matching him bite for bite. Jinyoung spent the evenings horizontal on the veranda, groaning at the plate of seasonal fruit Wonpil offered him. 

26.

“Always thought you were a stick in the mud,” said Jinyoung over soju. 

“Always thought you were a corrupting influence,” replied Younghyun evenly. 

“Not inaccurate.” Jinyoung smiled. “I particularly enjoyed that time you saw Wonpil all prettied up for the club and walked straight into the piano.”

Wonpil winced. “The antique Bösendorfer.” 

“I thought you were concerned about my toes,” said Younghyun.

“I am very concerned about your person in general,” Wonpil replied.

Jinyoung watched them both with a strange, fond look. “I’m very glad, you know.” 

“You should be,” said Wonpil, “you did just eat your weight in _hwareo-hoe_.”

27.

Jinyoung had brought enough treats that it was ill-advised to try to eat them all. After Wonpil had stashed away the jaffa cakes, they’d cycled out to distribute the rest.

They were taking a short cut round to vegetable _halmeoni_ ’s when they stumbled upon it,beyond a low wall of rough stacked stones: a field of white flowers extending into a distant line of trees.

Wonpil came to a stop. “Oh. That’s rather lovely.”

“Buckwheat,” said Younghyun.

And, since neither of them had anywhere pressing to be, they paused, and watched the sea of flowers gently ruffled by the breeze. 

28.

He was idly tapping out a melody for Younghyun’s organic food jingle when Younghyun slipped into the piano room, several envelopes tucked under his elbow. 

The first bore a _mugunghwa_ watermark and contained a letter written in Lady Noh’s precise hand: a firmly worded request for _sangwang jeonha_ to visit over _chuseok_. 

“She could have used KaTalk,” Wonpil murmured, then turned to the second letter. 

This one was from the composition competition, informing him that his piece had been selected for performance at the festival in East Sussex. 

“Really,” said Younghyun, reading over Wonpil’s shoulder. “Your pseudonym was ‘ _Brian Kim_ ’?”

29.

“Remember first year, when you tried to run away,” said Younghyun, when they were sitting on the veranda with the white dog. 

“Oh goodness,” said Wonpil. 

Younghyun had found Wonpil by the ticket counter at Victoria Coach Station. Wonpil still remembered the odd relief he’d felt amidst the churn of his frustration, when he had turned and seen that it had been Younghyun who’d grabbed his arm. 

“We went to that park —”

“You bought me that truly awful sandwich.”

Younghyun glanced over at Wonpil. “You talked about your dreams. About composing.” 

“Well, yes.” 

Younghyun smiled. “I’m glad that came true.” 

30\. 

_I just want, for a second, to not be me,_ Wonpil had said, that day in the park, and Younghyun had planned for months — through summer, even — for that precious weekend in Lisbon. 

Now, Jae sent Younghyun a screenshot from some variety show he was a panellist for, where someone from EXO had visited a bakery in Jeju. 

In the background: a slight man; shirttails sticking out from his windbreaker, owlish in his glasses, hat jammed over his curls. _Sangwang jeonha_ , for anyone who was looking.

“Didn’t you notice the camera crew?” asked Younghyun.

Wonpil shrugged. “They didn’t notice me.” 

31.

They excavated their best clothes for the trip back, and Wonpil was persuaded to get a haircut.

“By an actual barber, not me messing around,” said Younghyun. 

“You cut my hair fine,” said Wonpil. Their bathroom was oddly-shaped, so Younghyun had taken to spreading newspapers across the living room floor while Wonpil sat on a stool, making comforting sounds at the white dog while Younghyun worked. “Vegetables _halmeoni_ says I’m handsome.” 

“You are, very,” Younghyun replied. “In spite of my poor efforts. But perhaps consider Lady Noh’s sanity.”

“Oh all right,” said Wonpil, mounting his bicycle with a mollified pout. 

32.

He worried so much about the white dog missing them and whether they’d be able to fit all their gifts within the baggage limit, that the strangeness of returning to Busan only hit him as they were landing. There was the receiving party, the disorienting drive to Haeundae, and an audience with Her Majesty, who remarked rather enviously that they were both looking well. 

And then: finding Lady Noh in the terrace by the royal kitchens, amidst the earthenware pots.

“How have you grown more beautiful,” said Wonpil, and gathered her in his arms. 

“ _Jeonha_ , your _hair_ ,” said Lady Noh. 

33.

“I am happy and very well,” said Wonpil. 

“Oh, undoubtedly,” Lady Noh replied. “I was asking about Captain Kang.” 

“Yes,” said Younghyun around a massive mouthful of food. 

Wonpil tried not to pout and failed, but softened when Lady Noh took his hand. “Would I have so gladly let you go, had the Captain not been going with you?"

The night before the abdication Wonpil had sought out Lady Noh, to ask if he’d made the right choice. 

“You do not need my counsel on this.” She had touched his cheek. “It brings me immeasurable joy to see you happy.” 

34.

On _chuseok_ morning they visited the royal tombs, Queen Soo-jin in her _hanbok_ , Wonpil more nondescript in a suit Sungjin had retrieved for the occasion. 

There were Palace Office photographers and the usual television crews at the entrance. Wonpil felt Younghyun fall just a step behind — muscle memory, or something else. 

Wonpil paused and, ignoring all remaining Palace protocol still applicable to him, reached over to take Younghyun's hand, easy and instinctive as if they'd been following some _olle_ trail, white dog at their heels.

"Keep up," Wonpil murmured, squeezing his fingers around Younghyun's.

" _Jeonha_ ," said Younghyun, his voice soft.

35.

The Hall of Artefacts remained overgrown, vines scaling the chamber where the late King had been murdered. 

As with previous years, Wonpil went and stood within it, pondering the night he’d almost died; how he’d seized the four-tiger sword like his father had taught him; how, years later, he’d put it down. 

When he found Younghyun outside he was struck suddenly by the memory of him, aged twelve, going on one knee to swear an oath. 

_Why did you do it_ , Wonpil had asked once.

Younghyun had smiled; traced Wonpil’s palm. _Maybe even as a boy I’d recognised something precious_.

36.

“Will you go, then?” asked Jae, over drinks in Sungjin’s apartment. “East Sussex.” 

Wonpil examined the photograph on the wall — London; the five of them. Even then he and Younghyun had leaned towards each other, two plants seeking mutual light.

“You could stop by the old haunts,” said Sungjin. “Visit Dowoonie.” 

Wonpil glanced over at Younghyun, carefully dividing the _pajeon_ , and found that he didn’t miss those hectic, bright days in London.

“I’d prefer to be home,” said Wonpil, thinking of their quiet, private dance this past year; of the white dog at his feet, Younghyun curled against him.

37.

“Do you miss it,” said Younghyun while they waited to board, having said goodbye to Sungjin and Jae. Earlier, Wonpil had embraced Lady Noh and Queen Soo-jin, protocol be damned, while earnestly entreating them to visit. 

“I was just thinking, actually, about the way the house smells after it rains,” Wonpil replied. “And I hope the white dog remembers us, and _harabeoji_ watched the tomatoes like he promised.” 

“ _Jeonha_. I meant the Palace.” 

“Oh.” Wonpil blinked. “I miss Lady Noh, of course.”

“Nothing else?” 

“The way I see it,” said Wonpil, taking Younghyun’s hand, “you were always the best part.” 

38.

There were souvenirs to be unpacked and Palace _doenjang_ and _kimchi_ to be stowed away; the white dog to be retrieved from vegetable _halmeoni_ ’s. 

Wonpil found himself wandering instead into the piano room where he sat, legs pulled up on the piano chair, tapping out the strange and tender waltz that had been knocking about in his limbs for days. 

He’d scribbled half of it down before looking up to find Younghyun leaning against the doorframe.

Wonpil eyed the plate of pear he was holding. “Are you bringing me snacks now?” 

Younghyun laughed. “Oh no, this is all for me.” 

39.

En route to vegetable _halmeoni_ ’s: the buckwheat field, again. 

“It’ll be tangerine season soon,” said Younghyun, as they stopped to look. “We’d have been here a year.”

Wonpil eased his bike closer and leaned over — setting his foot down on the ground — to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Are you happy, hyung?”

“ _Jeonha_.” Younghyun turned to catch the corner of Wonpil’s mouth with his lips; to cup his face and kiss him properly. “Why do you ask questions you know the answer to.”

“ _Captain_ ,” Wonpil murmured, leaning his cheek against Younghyun’s palm. 

“Yes,” said Younghyun. “Yes, I am.”

[♪♪](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Leu1GVRhSo)

**The Dong-A Ilbo Digital Archives**

King Abdicates the Throne

His Majesty King Wonpil has declared his abdication in a historic ceremony at Gyeongbokgung in Busan. This makes him the first King to abdicate in more than 100 years, as well as in the history of the Kingdom of Corea as a constitutional monarchy. 

The day’s ceremonies began with several private rituals. 

The XX-year-old has been granted legal permission to abdicate for personal reasons. His cousin, Crown Princess Soo-jin, will ascend the throne on Wednesday. 

In his final speech as King, Wonpil, wearing a modern _hanbok_ , said that he wished the Kingdom of Corea and the world “peace and happiness”. 

Official Palace sources have confirmed that His Majesty intends to retire to an undisclosed location. 

He will be accompanied by his childhood companion and former Captain of the Royal Guard Kang Younghyun, who joined the Guards in his second year of high school in order to fulfil his oath to protect the King, and accompanied His Majesty during his university studies in London. 

Sources close to the Palace have further confirmed that the two are “very much in love”, and wish for the public’s understanding and respect of their privacy. 

40\. (bonus double-drabble)

"I'll outshine the bride in this _hanbok_ ," Wonpil threatened, fingering the smoke grey fabric shot through with navy and gold. Younghyun had dashed out to start the car, shirtsleeves hanging open at his wrists. 

“You won’t,” replied Sungjin, who had flown in a day earlier to make sure Wonpil didn't look disreputable at Staff Sergeant Yoon's wedding, “I helped pick the gown.”

When they arrived Wonpil immediately lost Younghyun to a crowd of Guards. (Corporal Nam, cheeky: “When’s your turn, Captain?” Sergeant Han: “A ring would get in the way of his gardening.”)

Younghyun found him later by the hydrangeas. 

“Thought you might need a little space,” said Wonpil. 

“They want to greet you too,” Younghyun said, slipping his fingers between Wonpil’s. 

“Would a ring really get in the way of your gardening,” murmured Wonpil. 

“Goodness, not a _wedding_ ,” Younghyun deadpanned. “Remember Ye-eun _noona_ ’s.”

“Ah, yes,” said Wonpil, recalling the security nightmare, the confusion about the cake.

Yoon’s wedding went smoothly by comparison. Wonpil smiled and smiled; played them a congratulatory piece on the keyboard they’d moved into the field. Danced, wrapped in Younghyun’s arms, as the evening was lit by lamplight and fireflies, like he’d wanted to at _noona_ ’s.

**Author's Note:**

> me to forochel, many days later:  
> it’s like  
> did you KNOW that if you write 30+ 100-word snippets  
> you get a 3000+ word fic  
> math
> 
> Oh my goodness this was tremendous fun to write while also being a terribly indulgent thing neither of us wanted to end. Thank you to forochel for all the chatficcing and bellowing and thoroughly exploring all the au possibilities with me, I adore [your TKEM fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921901) and this is just a DIRECT RESPONSE to that loveliness. <3333
> 
> Title from [Ásgeir - In The Silence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWCUdy2Af58), but do yourself a favour and listen to it [in Icelandic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGJ3aCCCAxc).
> 
> Also there is another one of these + forochel has written another thing in this parallel universe so... guess this is how 2020 is going for us?


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